


Chase the Thunder Away

by orphan_account



Series: Jegulus Fest [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe-No Voldemort, Blind Character, Blind Regulus, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Kissing, M/M, MWPP, Marauders era, sneaking out of bed, thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:12:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6647545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very little could get James Potter out of bed after running all night with Remus at the full moon.  But there is one person, and James Potter never says no to Regulus Black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chase the Thunder Away

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of the Jegulus Fest fics- this one for Deducing-Nerds who wanted :James or Regulus sneaking to each other's beds at night and cuddling and maybe it's a stormy night?
> 
> Side-note, I'm working on the final chapter of my YouTuber fic which will be done either tonight, or tomorrow x

James stared down at the parchment, the too-neat writing, meaning it had come from a dicta-quill, meaning he knew who’d sent it so the signature was unneeded. It was shaped into a small heart which had woken him, fluttering and smacking him on the face until he’d come to.

The sky outside the window was still dark, and he was groggy enough he couldn’t tell if it was near dawn, or shortly after he’d finally fallen to sleep. He was currently exhausted from the night before’s moon run with Remus, but he doubted there was anything on the planet which could get him to ignore the summons.

**Astronomy tower, fifteen minutes. I’ve charmed the heart to pester you until you get out of the bed.**

James half-wondered if they’d done some real disservice in befriending the Slytherin—and more in James’ case, which he recalled with a slight blush and small grin as he rummaged round for his cloak. It was still tucked under Sirius’ bed which was presently empty as he was in hospital with Remus probably stroking his boyfriend’s curls and dabbing dittany on his wounds.

Peter was snoring away, which left James free to wrap the cloak round his body, padding barefoot with his pyjamas now too-small and hanging several inches above his ankles. The common room was empty, the fire burning low, so no one was there to hear the portrait hole click open, then shut by absolutely nothing.

Keeping his feet soft, running almost completely on his toes, James made his way through the corridor, past Mrs Norris’ watchful eyes which he swore could see him in spite of the cloak, and finally to the Astronomy Tower steps.

His calves protested almost violently as he climbed, stag form or not, his muscles paid the price when Moony was restless and wanted a good, long run. But he did it anyway, because at the top there was promised kisses and a soft embrace, gentle fingers and a warmth James had wondered if he’d ever get.

It was strange, falling in love like this. Someone who should have been the antithesis of who he was—Gryffindor, blood-traitor, Head Boy, a Potter of all things.

Sirius, of course, had led the charge when he decided he was not going to let his rubbish parents corrupt his brother any longer. “He’s soft, but only because they tell him he is,” Sirius declared one summer which had been particularly dreadful. That was long before Sirius had run away from home, to live with James and his parents. The only thing that even kept the elder Black in that horrible place as long as he stayed was Regulus.

“They feed him this pureblood nonsense,” Sirius said, pacing their dormitory floor one night after a row with Regulus in the corridor. It ended in hexes and detentions all round for both the Marauders and the Slytherin prefect. “He believes it because no one’s ever told him better. He thinks he needs them to take care of him, he doesn’t believe in himself and it’s rubbish.”

James snorted, nursing a particularly vicious bruise on his ribs from said prefect. “It is rubbish. He nearly took all four of us without help.”

Sirius rubbed his face with his hand, then glanced over at Remus who had clearly heard this speech before—though likely in softer tones with kisses to make him feel better. “We have to do something.”

James was all for it, and it was a slow process, but James was anything if not persistent. Unfortunately they didn’t have classes together being that Regulus was a year below him, so James had to be sneakier about befriending the Slytherin.

But following him after Quidditch matches and volunteering to serve as guide when Reg had Care of Magical Creatures and James had a free period, and—startling everyone—sitting at the Slytherin table with Sirius for a handful of meals—and eventually Regulus caved.

It was shortly before Sirius left, and just after, James opened his door to find the younger teen stood there clutching his cane tightly in one hand, his wand in the other, trembling and pale and asking to speak with Sirius.

“Please don’t leave me there alone. I can’t do it without you.”

“So stay,” Sirius said, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. “Stay with me.”

Regulus had refused, crushing James’ heart who had already discovered that he wanted more than friendship. He wanted to kiss him and hold him and make all the bad things stop. Different than he felt toward Sirius, but just as strong.

The friendship hadn’t ended though. And one day at the start of James’ seventh year, he came off the pitch from a gruelling practise to find Regulus in the Gryffindor changing rooms waiting for him.

And James had laughed, then tugged him close. Regulus had reached up with a trembling hand and touched James on the lips, then asked to kiss him and well…

Sirius had been furious at first, accusing James of using Regulus to fill in for Lily, but Remus quietly mentioned James hadn’t fancied Lily in years, and they were quite good friends. “He doesn’t fancy just anyone,” Remus said very quietly.

Sirius had relented, probably remembering how much James had understood during Sirius’ worst mistake with Severus, and how James had been integral in getting Remus to forgive Sirius for it.

And then James had his blessing, and when he told Regulus, the prefect had laughed and laughed, then kissed James and said that his final year at Hogwarts without him would be hell. And James reminded Regulus there would be a flat waiting, and kisses. And other things.

By the time he reached the landing, he was grimacing in pain, but he could see Regulus leant against one of the parapets with his arms crossed against the cold, autumn wind. His face was turned up to the sky, the smallest smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His prefect badge was glinting against his robes, almost as a challenge to James, _I’ve called you, Head Boy, out of bed._

James let his feet make noise now, as he crossed the distance between them. He didn’t move the cloak, it was hardly necessary anyway, as Regulus’ hand came out in waiting. It closed round the fabric, and he let the pads of his fingers run over it before he laughed.

“I thought Sirius nicked it. He was in my common room earlier.”

James parted the cloak and enveloped Reg into it, drawing him tight against his chest, and pressing a soft kiss under his ear before he spoke. “Mm, he did. But I got it back so I could actually come to you without getting caught.”

“Are you saying the great James Potter, who is leaving behind a rather impressive legacy, couldn’t make a quick trip to the Astronomy Tower for a midnight snog without getting caught?”

“I’m saying,” James said as he trailed his lips along the cut of Regulus’ jaw, “I’d rather not take the risk since kissing you is far preferable to being in detention with Filch.”

Regulus laughed, low and deep in the centre of his chest as he tipped his head back, giving James more access to his neck. “I suppose I have to agree with you there.” His hands came up, splayed out flat along James’ chest. He’d once said he enjoyed nothing more than the feel of James’ Quidditch-taut muscles under his hands, and James had replied that Regulus could have access to touch anything he wanted. Any time.

“So. Cute little note, that parchment heart.”

“I knew you’d be tired. I had to get creative,” Regulus said before leaning his face against James’ chest and rubbing his cheek against the fabric. “Are you wearing your pyjamas?”

James laughed, carding his fingers into Regulus’ hair. “I am.”

“Do they have snitches on them?”

“Not these. Plain with stripes.”

“Hmm.” Regulus ran his fingers down the sleeves. “They’re too small.”

“They are. Couldn’t be arsed to write home for more.”

“Dear mummy, it seems my pyjamas have all gone a bit small. Please send me new ones. With snitches. And duckies.” Regulus snickered as James cuffed him on the shoulder.

“You are an arse.”

“And yet, here you are, like a little slag begging to kiss me.”

James pinched him by the chin, lifting his head and staring at the wandering, stormy grey eyes. “Well, I suppose there’s no lie in that statement. But I’m only a slag for you.”

“I know,” Regulus said, then went up on his toes to close the distance between them, their lips meeting soft, slotting together like puzzle pieces that were never meant to be apart. When he pulled away, he shrugged. “Were you a slag for anyone else, I’d have killed them by now and fed them to Remus.”

“That is…probably one of the worst things I have ever heard,” James admonished.

Regulus grinned, rubbing the tip of his nose against the sensitive skin just under James’ ear, just the way he liked best. “And yet. Here you are,” he repeated.

James tried to scowl, bringing Regulus’ fingers to his mouth so he could touch the frown, but Regulus merely laughed and dragged the edge of his nail along James’ soft lip. “You…” James whispered shakily.

“Me?”

James grabbed him by the shoulders then, crowding him against the stone wall before kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him. Breathless, he finally pulled away and shook his head right up against Regulus’ cheek so he could feel the gesture. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” Regulus said, triumphant but needy all the same. “I was thinking during the hols, we’ll stay at Sirius’ flat. I know it well enough from when Alphard was alive.”

“Your parents won’t mind?”

“My parents will have very little say come Christmas Eve when I turn seventeen.” Regulus dragged his fingers under James’ pyjama shirt, the tips ghosting along his abs which were presently soft.

James grinned, wanting to jump with glee at the thought of Regulus being properly free of them, but he knew how much his boyfriend didn’t like big displays, especially regarding his family. So he settled for a contented hum, and a kiss to each one of Regulus’ fingers tips. “I think that sounds brilliant, then. It’ll be good. I’ve never really celebrated Christmas before, but we can do whatever you like.”

Regulus laughed. “I haven’t either, you know. Mother’s family is Buddhist, father’s family finds it a frivolous holiday.”

“Shall we create our own, then? It’ll be a nice excuse for me to shower you with gifts. Moony turned me onto this shop that has all sorts of interesting muggle books in braille.”

Regulus couldn’t seem to help his smile, and he shrugged. “Maybe. I’m sure we can come up with something.”

James opened his mouth to reply, when suddenly there was a booming across the sky. Thunder, which was unusual in itself, and for this time of year. There was a rush of wind, and James could see the storm rolling fast and furious. Regulus went tight in his arms, stiff all over and James realised he was afraid.

“Come on. Let’s get back inside.”

Regulus nodded, but didn’t move. “I…”

“Come to my dorm,” James murmured against Regulus’ ear. “We’ll go in under the cloak. No one will say a word.”

Which was true. No one would defy Head Boy, especially Potter, and especially when it came to Regulus because he was fierce, furious, and unyielding. Regulus nodded, and clung to James’ arm as they rushed for the door, just making it back into the tower as the rain unleashed in torrents.

The thunder continued to boom, the lightning flashing through the windows as James kept the cloak firmly round them both, navigating the familiar corridors until they were at the portrait hole. He gave the password, one Reg always had just in case he needed James, and before long they were curled up in James’ bed, the curtains closed, surrounded by the sound of Peter snoring, and the rain falling.

The thunder sounded less ominous from the comforts of James’ over-soft duvet, but Reg’s face remained firmly planted in the crook of James’ neck, and his arms remained tight round the prefect, hand rubbing his back carefully, soothing.

“Nothing can get you here, you know,” James murmured.

Regulus nodded, his eyes tight shut by habit than necessity as he’d never in his life, ever seen an actual flash of lightning. But it soothed him and eventually he relaxed as James’ hand came round to play with his fingers.

“Prof McGonagall is going to be furious if she knows I slept here again,” he murmured. “And she won’t give us detentions together. And if Snape sees…”

“He knows I’ll hex him senseless if he even breathes a word,” James said, his voice low and furious. “And anyway, you can sneak out under the cloak.”

“Don’t have my cane,” Regulus said with a sigh.

“So I’ll go with you in the morning. I’m not going to let you get in trouble, and I’m not letting you sleep alone when you’re frightened.”

“Not frightened,” Regulus said with a sniff, and turned his face toward James.

Laughing, the Gryffindor kissed him. “Course you’re not. It’s actually me, you know. Terrified of these bloody storms and there’s no way I could sleep without you here.”

“And being that you were out all night with Moony the night before, sleep is critical,” Regulus said, his voice calm and pragmatic.

James chuckled again, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Exactly. So you’re doing everyone a favour, since as Head Boy I need to be in top form.”

“Bloody hero, me,” Reg murmured, and was starting to sound sleepy.

“Should have been Gryffindor,” James whispered, and hitched him close, letting their lips brush together once more.

“Shut it.” He was drifting now, to the sounds of rain, to the feel of breath on his neck, and to the knowledge that it was only one more year after this, and they had the rest of their lives in front of them. And that, more than anything else, chased the thunder away.


End file.
